Climbing Across Monkey Bars
by KissingFire
Summary: After Jace and his mother move into a house down the street from a playground, he begins seeing a little girl visit the park alone, every night. After befriending her, Jace realizes she doesn't spend the night at the park for fun. It's her escape. AU/OOC.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: This will be a small story. Only a couple of short chapters. Updates will swing from fast, to slow. **Crazy**'s my baby, so don't be surprised if I don't update every day. _

_Rated T: Mentions of child abuse._

_Pairing: Clary/Jace. Clace, Jary, call it what ya want. *eye roll*_

_All Human. OOC. AU._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Mortal Instruments. I do, however, own the box of tissues on my lap. Damn allergies. :(_

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><p><em>Jace<em>

...

...

My parents divorced when I was four. My mother told me it was because Father was too much of a liar, but Father told me it was because Mother was too cold and distant. Unaffectionate. I could vouch for that. Neither of them ever hugged me, hardly.

But of course, the day my mother packed the last box she was taking to Florida-Other than me-I wondered into my father's office, and found a pair of underwear-the stringy kind-that wasn't my mom's. And I only knew that because I went through her underwear drawer numerous times to get my Nintendo DS. My mother was horrible at hiding my toys. A little sticky note was laying on the hot pink string:

_Thanks for the hot night, handsome!_

_xoxoxo _

And there was a lipstick smear on it.

Which is how I ended up in a town too hot, and Mother complaining to me about the too-nice people, the heat, the melted ice cream and how she forgot her favorite blouse back home at Queens.

If it was up to me, I would've stayed with Father.

She eventually cheered up. As much as Mother could. She was never a very cheerful person. Father always called her cynical.

"On the bright side," she was saying. "We live down the street from the park. Hopefully there'll be some cute single dads hanging around there..." I don't even think she realized who she was talking to.

Our new house was small. Four rooms. A bathroom. Kitchen. My room. My mother's room, which also counted as the living room because it had a TV and computer.

I could see the park from my window. Kids my age running around, playing tag. A boy who looked about three years older than me, maybe seven, kissing a girl behind the swings.

"Mother!" She walked in, looking especially tired.

"What is it, Jonathon?"

I pointed out my window. "Can I go to the park?"

She shook her head. "Not right now. I'm unpacking."

Wasn't she the one who said she wanted to go, in the first place?

She walked out of the room briskly, high heels clicking loudly on the floor.

I sat on my bed, and pulled out my CD player and grabbing a pair of headphones. Mother hated music, and she didn't like me listening to it, saying it corrupted four-year-olds minds.

Father snuck me CDs into my room and under my mattress, so that Mother would never find out. I plugged in the headphones, and stuck one of the discs.

Grabbing a comic book from my suitcase, I laid on my stomach and just stared at the drawings, since I still didn't know how to read very well.

Mother walked in after three songs had played, and I didn't have time to hide the player. But she didn't look mad. Her eyes, yellow like mine, were sad. She sat down next to me, and ran her fingers through my hair, something she used to do whenever I would get nightmares. I still do, but I don't scream for her in the middle of the night anymore. Father told me boys didn't need their mothers to comfort them, after they were two.

So I never got comforted like this, anymore.

I rested my head on her lap, careful not to press the plastic of the headphones into her skin.

I think she missed Father. But Mother rarely showed what she was feeling, so I couldn't be for sure.

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><p>Mother made some macaroni and cheese for dinner, and let me eat in my room, saying I'd be in the way while she began unpacking the dishes and silverware.<p>

It was dark out, already, and the playground was bare. No more kids.

Except...I squinted. There was a girl out there. On the swings.

My eyes widened. Her parents weren't with her. I wondered if they knew she was even at the park. I ran up to the window, pressing my nose against the glass.

From what I could tell, since it was nighttime and she was far away, her hair was a bright red color. She was short, shorter than me. Actually, she looked about two. And she was thin. Not chubby like most girls that were that age.

She was swinging...Or trying to. Her legs were small and short, not touching the ground. They were moving back-and-forth, but she was hardly moving.

I found myself watching, fascinated, as she finally hopped off the swing, and ran up the stairs to the slides.

She went down on her stomach, and fell to the ground on her face. That must've hurt...

But she was smiling. She stood up, dusted herself off, and ran back up, sliding down again and again.

She went to the monkey bars, next.

She reached for the first one, and then the second, and dropped.

My hand clapped over my mouth, and watched as she sat up, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her face was scrunched up.

"Jonathon?"

I turned around. Mother was standing in the doorway, looking incredibly tired. "Jonathon, sweetheart, it's ten. It's past your bedtime. Go to sleep."

I changed into my pajamas, and brushed my teeth. My bed wasn't really a bed; the mattress was still on the floor, no sheets on it. Shrugging, I grabbed my pillow and Batman blanket, dropping it on the mattress.

Ducking my head out in the hallway, checking to make sure Mother wasn't coming back-she wasn't, she never hugged me good night-and ran on my tip-toes back over to my window.

She was no longer sitting on the ground.

_Maybe she went back home to get a band-aid?_

I saw a flash of red, and frowned. The little tunnel that was on the top of the playset, the one with little holes...She was in there. Barefeet stuck out of one end. And didn't move.

_Was she sleeping in there? That's so cool!_

I smiled. I'd always wanted to spend the night at the park. Play on the swings and slides all day. Climbing and hanging upside down from the monkey bars...

Lucky.

I climbed into my "bed" and fell asleep, dreaming about girls with red hair who would spend all night at playgrounds.

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><p><em>Review<em>

_I promise it'll get better. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Characters will grow older as the story progresses. Kind of like **Unexpected**, but completely different from that._

_Thanks for the reviews! Y'all are too sweet. :)_

_...And yeah, Jace is a mature little four-year-old. But he was always described mature growing up, and would you really enjoy reading a story from a REALISTIC four-year-old's point of view? :P_

_Disclaimer: Yeah. I'm Cassandra Clare, secretly stalking Mortal Instruments FanFiction and writing stories about my own books. O_O _

_Why do we have to write those, again?_

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><p><em>Jace<em>

_..._

_..._

I woke up to the sound of Mother knocking on my door. "Jonathon? Honey, I have a job intereview to go to."

I huffed, but as Father had taught me, I wasn't allowed to yell at women. Even though she woke me up real early. I held my Scooby-Doo watch to my face: 5:24.

"Bye, Mother."

I covered my yawn with my hand, because Mother always said it was rude to not cover up that sound, and the sight of my mouth.

"Don't leave the house, Jonathon. Don't touch anything that hasn't been put up. Don't move around the boxes."

I sighed, and scratched my stomach. "Okay, Mother."

"I'll be back at around five. You know where the Uncrustable PB&J's are?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Good bye, Sweet Pea."

Her heels sounded through the house, the only noise.

I yawned again, not bothering to cover my mouth. I immediately felt guilty, even without Mother here to scold me, so I covered my mouth mid-yawn.

Laying back down, I closed my eyes. But I couldn't fall back asleep.

Huffing angrily, I stood up, and walked over to my suitcase.

I pulled on a black shirt and jeans; I had a friend in New York, who was in my daycare class, and still needed his mom to put on his clothes for him. I'd laughed and called him a baby, 'cause I'd dressed myself since I was two. Father insisted I learned, and if I didn't want to put on my clothes myself, I'd just have to walk around naked.

I was fine with that, until I went over to my friend Kaelie's apartment, which was under mine, and her mother locked me outside and called Mother.

I walked into the tiny bathroom, with my Spongebob toothbrush and strawberry toothpaste, and brushed my teeth, staring at my reflection. My daycare teachers always went on and on about how precious I was, and the girls by the blocks and arts & crafts area were always looking at me and turning red.

I smiled at myself. My mother's looks did come in handy. Especially when it got me free soda at the gas station, because the cashier couldn't "resist such an adorable face". Even Father would joke how my pretty face would send the girls running in my direction.

Oh, well. I didn't like girls very much, anyway. My "homeboy" as he called himself, Qua, told me they had cooties. I just thought they smelled funny. Too clean. And they never played. Only talked and jumped rope. Kaelie was nice. Except she kept trying to kiss me, which I didn't like.

Dropping my toothbrush into its little container, and carefully washing my spit and toothpaste out of the sink-I didn't want Mother thinking I was lazy and sloppy like Father. I didn't want her leaving me, too.-I walked out, not bothering to brush my hair. Mother never scolded me for having messy hair.

I tiptoed into Mother's room, even though she wouldn't hear me, because she wasn't here, and was disappointed when I saw that only the laptop was unpacked, not the TV.

_I could always go to the playground._

I scrunched my face at that thought. It was five in the morning. It was probably freezing cold, like it was in Queens. But on the other hand, I wouldn't have to rush down the slide, or wait to get on the swings.

Excitement rushing through me at that thought, I ran back into my room, grabbing my red jacket, and pulling and zipping it up as I rush through the house and out the front door.

_Brr. Yep, it's cold. _

I kept my hands in my pockets, even as I ran down the sidewalk, because I didn't want my hands getting chapped. Mother would see them and immediately know that I'd disobeyed her and went outside.

The park looked creepy without anybody playing there. I shrugged that thought away, and rushed up the steps, toward the slide. I sat there, and looked down. Whoa. That was high.

I brushed away the scared-feeling. Father would've been laughing at me, if he were watching. _Men aren't afraid of heights, Jonathon, _he'd say, a mean look on his face. _If you can't handle a flipping slide, then I may as well go buy you a Barbie doll to play with instead._

I slid down.

My eyes were closed the whole time, my stomach turning over.

I let out a breath of relief when I felt myself stop moving. I probably looked nothing like that girl last night did. I bet _she _wasn't afraid of heights.

Frowning at myself, I pushed off the slide, and walked back over to the stairs, deciding to go down the smaller slide.

Still thinking about my Father and how disappointed he'd be if he knew I was going on the smaller slide instead of the large one, I didn't see the body I was crawling over in the little tunnel, on my way to the slide.

I heard a scream.

I felt hands push at my stomach, and I was knocked back.

"Ow," I complained, and sat up. The girl with red hair, the same one from last night, was on the other end of the tunnel, her eyes-which were green-round and scared.

"Did you have to _push _me?" I frowned at her. "You messed up my hair, idiot."

I actually didn't care about what my hair looked like. I hadn't even brushed it. But I didn't really know what to say. It was kind of embarassing that a girl smaller than me could knock me over.

She crossed her arms, and didn't say anything.

I squinted at her. She had a bruise on her cheek. _Did I do that?_

"Did I step on your face?" I asked. "Sorry."

She shook her head.

I shifted. Her being quiet was making me feel uncomfortable. "Uh...Did you spend the night here?"

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head again.

I frowned at her. "Yes you did!" My voice was louder. "LIAR. I saw you. You slept here."

Green eyes darted like mice to each side, her face looking whiter than it was a second ago.

"That's so cool," I told her. "Do your parents let you? My mother doesn't like me sleeping outside. She says only homeless people do that."

She shrugged.

I held out my hand, feeling a little ashamed, because Mother always told me it was polite to introduce yourself right away when you meet somebody. "I'm Jonathon. Who're you?"

She whispered something.

"What?"

She raised her voice, slightly. "Clarissa."

I wrinkled my nose. "Ew. You have an ugly name."

Clarissa looked mad. "Jonathon sounds like an old man's name," she snapped. Her voice sounded crackly and dry, like she was thirsty.

Her eyes widened, and she jerked away from me.

I tilted my head. Did she have a twitch, or something? "I have a very proper name, thankyouverymuch," I said, my tone similar to Mother's.

Clarissa nodded, back to not talking. I think I liked her better when she was mad at me.

"What happened to your face?" _And your clothes, arms, and hair. _Her clothes were filthy and had holes everywhere, her arms had more black and purple marks, and burns. Similar to what happened to my hand last month when I accidently put my hand in Father's ashtray, and touched one of his still-hot cigarettes.

Clarissa swallowed. "I-I fell down the stairs," she said, her voice quiet.

"On your face?" I shook my head. "That must've hurt."

She nodded. "Yeah. It still hurts."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Why didn't you get your mom to put a band-aid on it?"

Clarissa let out a breath. "Because."

_I hate that excuse._

I thought of something else to say. _It's really hard to talk to this girl. _"Uh, can I call you something besides Clarissa?"

She frowned. "Like what?"

..."Um..."

Clarissa.

Rissa.

Clariss.

Clare.

I looked at her. Something that would fit her. It would be small. And a nice name, because she had a nice face, for a girl.

Clare was too...Weird.

"Clary."

Clary blinked. "Clary?" She frowned. "Fine. I'll call you Jace."

"Jace?" I hated it. "That sounds nothing like Jonathon. Call me Jon."

"No." She began to lift her chin, but immediately dropped it. "Can I call you Jace?"

I still didn't like it. "Only if you teach me how to slide," I said.

"Slide?" Clary raised her eyebrows. "You don't know how to slide?"

I swallowed, embarassed. "Yeah, well, _you _can't swing! Or climb the monkey bars!"

Clary crossed her arms. "I'm short. But you're a chicken."

"I am not."

"Bawk. Buh-buh-BAWK!" She began moving her elbows.

"Loser."

"Chicken."

"I can slide. I just wanna know how to go on my stomach," I protested.

"Prove it, then."

"Fine."

"Fine."

_Dang it._

I crawled out of the tunnel, Clary following me.

"Go."

I sat down, and stared down at the blue slide. It suddenly seemed a whole lot higher than before.

"Clary, I don't-HEY!"

Small hands were placed on my back, and I was forcefully pushed down-seriously, she's so small, how'd she get so strong?-before I was prepared.

I gave a scream, and my hands scrabbled for something to grab onto, and I ended up clutching Clary's arms. She made a hurt noise as I touched one of her bruises, but it turned into a yelp as I pulled her down with me.

She squealed, sounding like a piglet, and fell onto my back, her arms wrapping themselves around my waist, as we more like rolled down the slide than actually slid.

She felt good. Kind of like she was hugging me.

But as soon as we hit the bottom, she quickly detatched herself from me and ran off. Like, ran. Into the woods behind the playground.

I frowned and looked as she disappeared.

Surprised to find myself actually missing her.

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><p><em>Review.<em>

_Please?_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter three. :)_

_AN: Eh, I'd recommend paying attention whenever I put up the ages before the chapter. Because it'd be a real PITA if I said the ages were, say, thirteen and twelve, and someone left a review flipping out about how they couldn't picture a seven-year-old doing whatever. :P I hate repeating myself, so if you say something like that, I'll probably just feed you bullcrap. *cheerful grin*_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Mortal Instruments. However, in my dreams, I own Jared Leto. If you don't know who that is, crawl out from under whatever rock you live under and look him up. ^.^_

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><p>One Month Later<p>

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><p><em>Jace<em>

_..._

_..._

Mother had gotten her job, as a waitress? She said it was a waitressing job, but whenever I caught her before she left in the early morning and sometimes late at night, she wore clothes I'd never seen a waitress wear at Olive Garden or iHop.

Clothes I didn't like seeing her in.

Shirts that didn't fit. Skirts that when she bent over to put dishes in the dishwasher, I could see her underwear. Lacy and pink, like the ones that were left in Father's office.

Heels too high. Makeup that made her look different. Perfume, though, was what I hated the most.

Strong patchouli-scented perfume, that would cloud the air a little when she rushed into my bedroom to let me know where she left my dinner and lunch, and would hover as the door slammed behind her. The faint smell of flowers the only reminder a second-mother had been there.

When she came home last night, she smelled like smoke. Cigarette smoke. I held my breath when she came in my bedroom to make sure I was inside, which she rarely ever did, because the strong, sour smell of smoke and something-something like beer. Beer that Father used to drink.

As soon as Mother left that morning, five as always, I crawled out of my bed-which was still laying on the floor-and ran down the hallway, to the tiny kitchen.

Mother hardly kept any food in the fridge or cabinets, and she labeled everything carefully, letting me know what food I was allowed to eat, and what food was hers.

I couldn't find anything with my name on it.

Sighing, I shut the door, and grabbed an apple and Wild Cherry Caprisun, slipping them into the pockets of my shorts.

I bit my lip, thinking of the package of Oreos that I knew were hidden on the top shelf of one of the cabinets. I shook my head. Mother only let me have three, and that was usually on special times, like Christmas. She usually ate them on her way to work.

I walked out the door, locking it behind me with an extra key Mother kept in her purse; I'd swiped it last month and she still hadn't noticed.

The park, as usual, was empty.

Except for the short girl that was sitting impatiently on the swings, bouncing impatiently.

"You're late," she said as soon as I reached her. "Why are you late? Were you not gonna come?"

Clary's red curly hair was tangled. Always tangled and dirty, hanging in knots in front of her flith-covered face. Her clothes rarely were changed. When I'd asked her why not, she'd mumbled something about being poor, and then threw a handful of mud at my face.

"Shut up." I handed her the apple and Caprisun. I'd noticed her stomach was always growling everytime I came to see her, and started bringing her snacks. She never thanked me, but that was Clary: I gave her food and she gave me lessons on how to wrestle. Or how to cheat at wrestling, I've discovered.

Her face brightened, and she snatched the food from me, cramming the apple in her mouth and taking a huge bite.

I sat on the swing next to her. "Hey, Clary?"

She hummed around the apple in her mouth.

"Why is there blood on your cheek?" I'd noticed it when I handed her the fruit. Dry red stains on her pale bruised cheek.

Clary swallowed, and took a slurp from the juice. "I hit my cheek on something sharp," she said.

I frowned. "And you didn't get a band-aid for it?" Even Mother would put band-aids on any cuts or scabs I had.

She shook her head.

"Oh." I stood up and walked around her, and began to push her.

Clary bit down on the apple to keep it in her mouth, holding the Caprisun in one hand, and held on to the chains as I began to push her swing.

She squealed as she began going higher and higher, her small thin legs kicking up at the still-dark sky.

I smiled as I watched her. Silly Clary.

"Do you wanna band-aid?"

She looked over her shoulder at me. "A band-aid?"

I nodded, my hands sliding in my pockets. "Yeah. I have Winnie-the-Poo band-aids. With Piglet and Tigger. And Rabbit."

Clary frowned. "What's a Winnie Poo?"

_She doesn't know who Winnie-the-Poo is?_

I grabbed at the rubber of the swing, stumbling as I tried to pull the swing to a stop.

She hopped off. "Am I going to go inside your house?" Her green eyes, which looked like grass, in my opinion, rounded.

"Yeah. But you can't track anything in my house." I looked at her clothes. "Mother can't know you came inside."

Clary bounced a little. "Alright."

I began to run towards my house, hoping to beat her there.

But of course, even with her chicken-legs, Clary was ahead of me right away, already knowing where my house was. She said she saw me in my room sometimes. Saw me pick my nose.

I close the curtains every night now.

Clary was standing on the front porch with a smug smirk on her face. "Beat you. Sucker." She stuck her tongue out at me, a bright red from the Caprisun.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Shut up. I let you win."

Clary giggled as I unlocked the door.

"Now, wait out here while I get the-" She'd already ran inside.

I stomped my foot. "CLARY."

Mumbling angrily about how stupid girls were, I walked in, heading to the bathroom.

"Clary?" I grabbed the box of bandaids out from beneath the sink. "Where are you?"

She was sitting on Mother's bed. With her filthy clothes.

_"What are you doing?" _I ran over and grabbed her by her arm, pulling her off the bed before she could stain anything. Mother's sheets were always a perfect white. And they were going to stay that color white.

Clary hissed, and I let go. "Sorry," I said quickly, remembering how she always seemed to have a bruise or cut on her arms. Even when one healed, another always seemed to appear.

_Clary is one clumsy girl._

"What'd you do that for?" She demanded. "Her bed was squishy."

I pulled out a Tigger band-aid, because he was my favorite. "I'm not allowed in her bed," I told her. "If she finds out someone else was, she'll be angry."

"So? What's she gonna do when she's angry? Yell at you?" Clary wrinkled her nose. "You baby."

"I'm not a baby." I frowned at her.

Clary rolled her eyes. "Yeah-huh."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

"Nuh-"

"Give me the stupid band-aid."

_"I _have to put it on," I corrected her. "Duh."

Peeling away the paper, I pressed the band-aid onto her cheek, over the cut.

Clary was staring at me.

"Your welcome," I said.

She nodded, and kissed my cheek. Then she turned and hurried out of the room.

I turned red, and touched my cheek. Her lips were sticky from the apple, but they were soft. Like pillows.

Clary was standing in the kitchen, her nose wrinkled disdainfully. "Is it always so clean in here?" She demanded, turning to look at me as I walked in.

I crossed my arms, feeling a little defensive. "What's wrong with being clean?"

Clary shrugged. "Noth-ing," she drawled, in a voice saying she thought there was something wrong with it.

I frowned. "You aren't even supposed to _be _in here," I muttered.

She shrugged. "Whatever. Can I have something else to eat? I'm still hungry." She patted her flat belly. "Hungry, hungry, hungry."

I bit my lip. There really wasn't anything else. Except...

"I have cookies," I offered. "But we aren't allowed to eat 'em."

Clary's eyes lit up. "Cookies? I never had those b'fore."

"Never?" I stared at her, mouth open. "Ever?"

She shook her head. "Can I get one?"

"No. Not allowed-Hey!" Clary had reached forward and was squeezing my arm, too tight.

Her teeth clenched. "Where. Are. They?" Her grip tightened.

I winced. "Leggo! Lemme go!" I pulled away, rubbing at my arm.

Clary was staring at me. "You wasn't supposed to do that," she said. "You were supposed to tell me where they are."

I shook my head. "I told you, no. And you're supposed to ask. Not hurt me."

She frowned. "But that was supposed to make you get the cookies," she protested. "It's s'posed to work."

I sighed. "Ask nicely."

Clary crossed her arms, and huffed. _"Please, _can I have a cookie?"

Mother would be angry if she found out. Clary was my only friend. Mother ate cookies all the time. Clary never had a cookie. Ever.

"Fine." I walked over to the cabinet, and looked up. "I can't reach it."

Clary sighed and walked over. "Hold on." She reached up, gripping the edge of the counter.

"What are you-?" _She was going to get the counter dirty._

Clary pulled herself up, swinging her leg over onto the counter, and pushed herself onto the counter, sitting down and smiling down at me smugly.

"How'd you do that?" I gaped at her.

She shrugged. "'S how I get food at home." Standing up and holding onto the cabinet knobs, Clary opened the door. "Which is it?"

"Blue one." I pointed at the Oreo package.

Clary grabbed the package, and dropped it to the floor.

She closed the cabinet, and hopped down. My arms went up, and she crashed into me, sending us both to the floor. _"Oof!"_

Clary pushed herself off my chest. "That was embarassing," she whispered loudly.

I blinked up at her. _There is a girl sitting on me. Thereisagirlsittingonme. THEREISAGIRLSITTINGONME._

I pushed her all the way off, and she fell to the floor with a _thump._

She sat up and grabbed the package, tearing it open with her nails.

"I want one," I complained, reaching over and grabbing one and shoving it into my mouth.

Clary started muching, and her eyes rolled back. _"Mmm."_

I nodded; they were yummy.

"Thank you," she said, the first time I'd ever heard her say thank you.

I smiled at her, and wrapped my arms around her. "Thank you for getting them down."

Clary grinned, oreo crumbs in her teeth.

But it looked good on her.

And I even let her make a mess, leaving crumbs all over the kitchen floor.

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><p><em>Review<em>

_..._

_..._


	4. Chapter 4

_Patience, chickies. They **will **get older. _

_AN: Some confusion: Jace's mother is a prude and unaffectionate, according to his father. No way is she a hooker. She's a waitress at a sleazy bar._

Ages:

Jace: Five

Clary: Five

_Disclaimer's in the 1st chapter._

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><p>Jace<p>

...

...

"Jonathon."

I opened my eyes, yawning and rubbing at my face.

Mother was still home. I frowned. _Didn't she have work?_

"Get up, Jonathon." Her white-blonde hair was down, and she was wearing her "uniform". But she was wearing her vanilla and peaches perfume. The perfume she used when she went to the grocery store, or out in public.

"Where are we going?" I asked as she opened up my drawers, and tossed a white-collared shirt and fancy pants onto my bed.

"_You_ are going to school," she told me, red-painted nails resting on her hips. "Your lunchbox is on the table, and the bus stop is on the corner of the road. At the stop sign."

I stared at her. _School? _I've been to day-care. Pre-school. But a boy in my pre-school class told me his sister _hated _school, that the kids there were mean and the teachers yelled. And they weren't allowed to play games we played in pre-school or daycare.

"Put your clothes on." She glanced down at her cell phone, and swore loudly. "I'm late. Hurry up, Jonathon." She fixed me with an icy, yellow stare. "You don't want to miss the bus."

I wrinkled my nose at the clothes she'd chosen for me. I hated the color white. It made me sad.

"Mother," I whined, kicking my foot on my mattress. "I don't wanna go."

"Don't you want to make friends, Jonathon?" She walked over to me with a comb, and began yanking at my hair, and I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out.

Father said only babies cried.

"I have a friend. Clary's my friend," I told her, blinking as I tried to keep my vision cleared, despite the pain.

"_Real _friends, Jonathon. Not imaginary."

I watched as Mother slicked my hair down to the side, curls flattened. "Brush your teeth and get dressed. I'll see you tonight, honey." She turned and briskly walked out of my room.

I sighed, and slid off my bed, and walked over to my drawer, ignoring the clothes she'd laid out for me.

Pulling on a black T-shirt and dark shorts, I ran to the bathroom, brushed my teeth quickly without getting toothpaste around the sink or counter, and made sure everything was clean before I ran to the kitchen.

There was a brown paper bag.

With an apple, Caprisun, and a bagel inside.

I pulled out the apple and began munching on it as I walked out the front door.

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><p>...<p>

...

"Where're you goin'?"

I looked over and saw Clary standing across the street from me, hands on her hips, scowl on her face. I saw her every morning. But now I had to go to school.

"School," I told her, kicking the ground with my sandals.

"School's for idiots," Clary spat out. "Why're you goin'?"

"I hafta. Mother said so." _When Mother says to do something, I have to do that. _Clary knew that.

"You wimp." Clary limped across the street, making a pained expression as she did. "I don't hafta go to school," she said smugly as she sat on the curb, next to where I stood.

I sat down next to her. "I don't wanna. Mother says I have to make friends."

Clary turned her head and scowled at me. "_I'm _your friend," she snapped.

I shrugged, and looked down. "Yeah, but are you goin' to school?"

"No. My mama said I don't have to." Clary's face darkened. "Too much trouble to lie, she said."

I frowned, and wrapped an arm over her shoulder. "Lie 'bout what?"

Clary rolled her eyes. "Not everybody's stupid as you are," she said. Shifting a little to the left, she hissed.

I looked down at her leg, which was slightly swollen. I touched it lightly with my fingers. "What happened?"

"I fell down the stairs."

"Again?"

"Yeah."

I narrowed my eyes at her. Clary wasn't a great liar, I'd learned. Her eyes got wider, and her whole body froze. Which was what she was doing now.

"Why are you lying to me?" I asked her.

Clary jutted out her chin. "Because I'm supposed to."

I frowned at her. "Friends don't lie."

"Friends don't leave friends to go to school," Clary shot back angrily. "To get new friends. Jerk."

"You whine a lot," I told her.

"You kiss up a lot."

"I do not!"

"Yeah you do."

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh."

"Whatever." I crossed my arms, and scooted away. "You're just jealous that I'm going to school and you aren't."

Clary turned red. "No. I'm not." She looked down. "I just don't want to be by myself." Her voice was softer. More whisper-ish.

"You can go home."

She stiffened, and looked over at me. "I don't want to be by myself," she repeated, and I could barely hear her.

"You won't be alone. Your parents will be there."

"They're mad at me."

I shrugged. "So?"

Clary hugged her knees to her chest. "They're scary when they're mad."

I nodded. "Mother's scary when she's mad, too."

"They get really scary, though."

I looked at her. Her face was paler, her freckles popping out. "Why are they mad at you?"

Clary looked at me, eyes sad. "I don't know. They're always mad."

I hugged her, and she put her head on my shoulder. "Jace, don't go."

"I hafta go to school."

"Please?"

"You'll be fine." I noticed something in her hair. Something that shined.

I pulled it out. Glass.

_Why does she have glass in her hair?_

"Please don't leave."

I saw a yellow bus turning the corner.

"We can play at the park. You don't have to go to stupid school."

The bus stopped in front of us.

My grip on her loosened.

"Jace, I don't want to be alone again..."

I stood up.

"I'll be back, Clary." I looked down and waved. "I'll see you after school. 'Kay?"

She shook her head, and watched me walk up the stairs.

I pressed my face excitedly to the window, and stared at her as she got smaller, sad face staring after me as I rode to school.

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><p><em>Next chapter will pick up where this one left off.<em>

_Review._


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for the wait, lovelies._

_..._

_I already told y'all, the chapters were going to be short. This story was going to have little of a plot. That they were going to be kids through most of it._

_If you don't like that, then you don't HAVE to read it._

_Disclaimer: *disclaimed*_

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><p><em>Jace<em>

...

...

...

I was sitting in the corner, a punishment for spiking Magnus Bane's hair with Elmer's glue and pouring a bowlful of glitter on top, making him sparkle.

I didn't see why the stupid teacher had to put me in the corner. He'd asked me to do it in the first place.

Huffing and sticking my tongue out every so often at Mrs. Garroway's back, I slumped against the window next to my yellow plastic chair, arms crossed.

Staring out at the playground, I caught a flicker of movement, near the edge of the field behind the swings, beside the sidewalk.

Red.

I shrugged, and looked away. Red reminded me of Clary, and Clary reminded me how sad she'd looked when I'd gotten on the bus. And scared.

But Clary was never scared. Clary was strong. Tough. She had the bruises to prove it.

I thought about her bruises.

That only made me angry.

Clary didn't need bruises or scars.

My belly hurt, and my head hurt, my face turning red when I thought about her getting hurt.

Mrs. Garroway asked me if I was ready to behave, and that if I was, I would be allowed to see what everyone brought for show-and-tell.

I threw a building block across the room, narrowly missing her head. I bet she wouldn't care about Clary getting hurt. Nobody did. If they did, she wouldn't be hurting anymore.

_I don't want her to hurt anymore._

"Jonathon Herondale," she said loudly, straightening. "Go to the principal's office. Immediately."

I scowled at her, looking back at the window. The red was walking away. The red was small-looking, thin and short.

It looked like Clary.

"My name is Jace," I said stubbornly, lifting my chin. Clary would've done the same thing, if she wasn't so shy. If she'd come to school with me.

Mrs. Garroway sighed. "Jonathon, I'm not doing this right now. Go to the principal."

"My. Name. Is. _JACE!_" I stomped my foot, crossing my arms angrily. Clary had named me that, and that was going to remain my name.

"Jonathon-"

I let out a frustrated scream, and pressed my hands to my ears. "Jace. Jace. Jace. Jace..."

She walked over to me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me outside. "March," she ordered, pointing a finger down the hall. "Office. Now."

I rolled my eyes. At least she hadn't called me by that old man's name again.

I shuffled down the hall, but didn't go to the principal's office. I went outside.

Running down through the field, I squinted my eyes and cupped my hands around my mouth. "Clary!" I yelled. "Clary!" I was positive that it was her. Thankfully. I wanted to say sorry for leaving her this morning, even after she told me not to. I was going to hug her, because I didn't like it when she was sad.

"Clary?" I reached the sidewalk, panting.

She wasn't there.

The red wasn't there.

I blinked, and rubbed at my eyes.

_Where did she go?_

I saw an old man standing on the curb next to the yellow-triangle sign, smoking a pipe. "Excuse me?" I asked politely. Mother always said to be polite, especially to old people. They always ended up being the more violent ones. "But have you seen a girl with red hair here?"

He looked at me. "Nobody here," he said, throat scratchy. "Haven't seen nobody."

I frowned. "But I saw her," I said, my voice rising with a desperate pitch, because I _had _seen her, and she _was _here, somewhere. "I saw her. Here. She was here. You're lying."

The man shook his head. "Ain't nobody over here," he said. "'Cept some rabid dog. Got rid of that bitch." He grinned at me, showing that he was missing two front teeth.

I took a step back. "You're creepy," I told him. "A creepy old liar. I don't believe you. Clary!" I began running down the sidewalk, across the street.

Nowhere.

She was nowhere.

* * *

><p>I didn't go back to school. Clary was right, it was stupid. Except Magnus. I liked him.<p>

But I was too worried about my best friend.

My chest was hurting from thoughts of her being kidnapped; while I'm sure she could pound any creep kidnapper, she was small, or worse, having cancer or heart attack. That's what happened to my grandmother. One minute we were making cookies, then she falls to the floor, choking and grabbing at her left arm.

I thought about that happening to Clary, and I began running faster.

I reached our playground, and put my hands on my knees, panting.

"Clary?" I wheezed, walking slowly around the swings, peering through the slides and tunnels, where she usually would sleep, or just lie down in, to think, she told me. She liked making worlds in her head to live in. I thought that was cool and weird, but I couldn't seem to do it. I didn't have another world.

"Clary? Where are you?"

She was always at the playground, in the daytime and nighttime, usually. Where else would she be? She hated her house, she told me. Her parents were too mean.

I thought about her parents, sitting on top of the railing above the slide, my feet dangling. She never talked about them, except for that they were mean and scary.

Mean and scary...

I wondered if that was why she was so skittish. Always jumped whenever I would grab her arm to pull her out of the street and onto the sidewalk when I saw a car coming. When I would tag her when we were chasing each other around the playground.

_Do they scare her like that? Scare her so bad that she's always tripping and falling into corners of tables and off stairs?_

I hopped off the rail, and slid down the slide, walking home, lost in thought.

* * *

><p>I watched Scooby-Doo for the rest of the day, and when Mother walked into her room and saw me watching the television, she asked me why I wasn't at school.<p>

"It was boring."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, before swiping mascara across her eyelashes and telling me that she had double-shift that night, and she wouldn't be back till early morning, and that I would have to fix my own dinner.

She walked out, forgetting to kiss me good bye.

I sighed. I didn't know how to cook.

I pressed the power button to the tiny TV and left the room, grabbing a fruit roll-up out of the bowl in the center of the table, and unwrapping it.

_Ringringringringring._

The doorbell was rang, over and over. Mother only ever rang once or twice, whenever she'd forget her car keys or wallet.

I paused, roll-up half-way in my mouth. Mother had just left, ten minutes ago. Why would she be back already?

Glancing out the kitchen window, I saw that it was really dark out.

What if it was a creepy old guy, like the one outside of the school this morning?

I grabbed the baseball bat Mother kept in the hall closet, the one she'd used on a burglar who'd broken into our apartment at Queens.

_Ring._

_Ringringringring-_

I threw the door open, with the baseball bat raised.

"He-YAH!" I swung at the visitor, not getting a look at who it was.

"JACE!" I heard a girl scream. "Hit me with that and I'm kicking your-" I wish I was allowed to say bad words.

I froze. "Clary?" I dropped the bat mid-swing. "What're you doing he-" I gasped. "What _happened?"_

Broken bits of glass stuck out of her cheek and jaw and temple, sparkling green in her hair, which was matted with sticky blood.

Her left eye was swollen shut, and she was standing funny, her left leg jutting out at an awkward angle.

"Can I come in?" She whispered, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth as she did so. "Please? I'm scared of the dark."

* * *

><p>She sat on my bed, ice pack on her eye as I pulled the glass out of her face, wiping away the blood with a wet cloth, rubbing Neosporin on her cuts.<p>

"Your leg is broken," I told her. "I can call my mom, she can take you to the hospital. Or do you want your parents to-"

"No!" Clary dropped the ice pack, panicked. "Don't call my parents. Please."

I stared at her. "Okay. Why not?"

She picked up the pack. "They won't be happy."

"What happened to you?" I asked, putting Elmo band-aids on her cheek and jaw. "You look like you were attacked by cats."

Clary was quiet. "If I tell you, promise you won't tell anybody?" She asked, finally.

"Promise." I crossed my heart.

She stuck her pinky out. "Pinky swear," she said.

I blinked. Whoa. This must be serious. I linked pinkies. "Pinky swear," I swore.

"My daddy and mommy did this to me," she said, quietly.

I stared at her. "They did?" Why would anybody hurt Clary? It was hard to process. "Why?"

She sniffled. "I dunno." She wiped away at a stray tear before it touched the band-aid. "They don't love me, I guess."

I glared at her. "Your parents are stupid." I sat down next to her on the bed, and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. "They don't know how awesome you are."

She giggled.

"And even if they don't," I squeezed her shoulders, a little, "I love you."

She stared at me. "Really?" She asked.

"Yeah, you're my best friend." I hugged her. "And I'll stay home tomorrow. You can spend the night."

She smiled. "Okay."

I patted her good leg, and helped her lie down on my bed, pulling the covers over her.

Crawling under next to her, I left the nightlight on, remembering what she'd said about being scared of the dark.

"G'night, Clary."

"Night, Jace. Love you too."

I smiled.

* * *

><p><em>Review.<em>


	6. Chapter 6

**_Crazy_**_'s in the process of being beta'd._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter picks up three weeks after last chapter ended.<em>

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><p><em>Jace<em>

...

...

...

I laughed at Clary the first few times she fell as she struggled to use her crutches.

She toppled into my wall, my dresser, into the _toilet_-I still laugh at that memory-and sometimes she fell while she was trying to stand up. Then I stopped laughing, because I remembered that she was already hurt enough, and that by falling, she wasn't getting any better.

Mother had driven us to the hospital as soon as she'd gotten home, after I begged and pleaded. She hadn't wanted to take us, because she said she didn't want to be accused of beating the kid herself, but Clary was starting to bleed out on our carpeted hallway floor, and I was refusing to kick her out of the house, so she finally relented. Thankfully.

The doctor gave Mother the stink eye, as did the other nurses as her and I sat in the waiting room, watching _Aladdin. _I loved that movie. I thought it was cool that they made a children's movie about a thief.

Clary wasn't allowed to stay with us, Mother said as we drove back home, Clary and I silently licking our frozen yogurts. She wasn't about to be a mother of two.

So I made a little bed out of cushions and an old comforter Mother never used in my closet, and Clary began to sleep in there.

She poked her head out of the closet as soon as Mother left to go to her night-shift. "Can we go to the park, Jace?"

I looked up from where I was doing my math homework. Subtraction was so stupid. "No."

"Whyyy?" She whined. "Please?"

"We can't leave the house at eight at night. Moron." I rolled my eyes at her. "And your leg is broken. What would you do there?"

"Slide." I shook my head. "Swing?" I raised my eyebrows at her.

She sighed. "You're no fun."

"I have homework," I told her. "And I'm tired. If you want to go to the playground, go by yourself."

"But I can't..." she slapped the floor in irritation, which she'd been doing a lot of lately, since she was unable to stomp her feet. "I can't stand up or walk without falling."

"Tough noogies." I subtracted three from twelve. That was ten, right?

I was on the third problem, when I heard a thump.

Clary was sitting on the floor, crutches awkwardly skewed around her.

I stifled my laughter.

She turned red, and glared at me. "Shut up!" She snapped. "That _hurt._"

Clary gripped at the edge of my dresser, and dragged herself up, leaning heavily on her good leg. She smiled proudly, and bent down to pick up her crutches.

"Where are you going?" I asked curiously.

"To the playground. _By myself._" She stuck her nose up, and "walked" out.

After many clattering and crashing sounds, I heard the door close.

I shook my head at her stubbornness.

_Silly Clary._

* * *

><p>I looked at my glow-in-the-dark watch.<p>

Digital watch, since I still couldn't read a clock.

She'd been gone for two _hours._

Worry rang through me: Why had she been gone for that long?

I closed my _Calvin and Hobbes _book, which I'd been reading under my covers, and grabbed my blue flashlight and jacket.

Clary could've been kidnapped.

She could've been hit by a car.

She could've broken her neck on the slide.

Or she could've strangled herself on the swings.

I ran outside. "Clary!"

My sock-covered feet slapped on the ground as I made my way to the playground, blue light shining my way.

What if Clary's dad saw her on the playground and took her back home to hit her?

What if she said yes to drugs and overdosed?

"Jace?"

I squinted, and pointed my light at a lump sitting on the ground in front of the swings. "Clary?" I called, hands cupping around my mouth. "Is that you?"

"Who else would it be?"

I shook my head, and ran up to where she was sitting, and panted, "What are you...doing...on the...ground?"

"I fell." She looked up at me through narrowed eyes. "Point that light somewhere else before I go blind."

_Sassy Lassie. _

I aimed the light up to the sky. "Are you alright?" I asked her, crouching down beside her.

Her crutches were laying beside her, looking scuffed. Her palms were grazed, and I noticed that she had her face all wrinkled, like a raisin.

"I landed on my leg," she said, her voice small in that way it was when she was upset or embarrassed by something. "And...it really hurts." Whoa. It must've hurt if she actually told me so. It wasn't like her to be a big baby over injuries. She didn't even cry when they doctors re-broke her leg.

"Here." I wrapped my arms around her small waist, and hauled her up.

...Sort of.

I stumbled, but didn't fall.

Clary's small hands were clutching at my arms, and I blinked at how soft she felt. Kinda like a marshmallow. Her skin felt like a cloudy marshmallow.

I pinched her arm, and she slapped me. "Ow!"

"Sorry." I slung my arm over her shoulders, and tried to reach her's around my waist, and she gave me a weird look.

"What're you doing?" She demanded.

I flushed. "Uh-helping you?" _Wasn't this how they did it in movies? _

"Oh." She was tense, but let me use myself as her crutch, since her's were unreliable.

I picked up her crutches with my free hand, and led her back home.

* * *

><p>"Jace? Do I live here?"<p>

Her quiet question woke me up. I don't think she meant for me to hear her, since she asked at...I looked at my watch. Three in the morning.

"Yeah."

"Why?" The closet door cracked open. "Why do you want me to live here?"

"Because your my friend," I told her. "I love you, and I don't like it when you get hurt."

She smiled. "Thanks."

I fell back asleep, smiling to myself.

* * *

><p>"Psst. Jace?"<p>

I woke up to see Clary's face hovering above mine, eyes wide and scared.

I yawned. "What now?"

She sniffled, but she wasn't crying. "I had a nightmare," she whispered.

"I'm sorry." I wasn't sure what to do, because every time I had a nightmare and went to my mother, she always pushed me out of her room and locked her door, yelling for me to let her sleep in peace.

"Can I sleep with you?"

I shrugged. "Don't snore." Father used to snore. It made Mother angry.

She crawled under the covers, awkwardly, since it was hard to get comfortable with a broken leg, and allowed me to tuck her in.

"What did you dream about?" I asked her sleepily, as she curled into my side.

_Warm._

_Soft and warm. _

_Like s'mores._

"My father and mother." Her eyelids drooped shut. "They found me."

"They won't find you," I promised, my own eyes starting to close. "You're safe with me."

"I believe you."

* * *

><p>Celine scowled as she opened the door to her house.<p>

Damn Stephen. Damn his cheating ass for putting her through this.

Leaving her in thousands of dollars in debt. Leaving her with a little boy who she didn't know how to raise. Leaving her with a job with a boss that wanted to corrupt her in the most disturbing of ways, and receiving degrading and sexually threatening comments from her customers.

Celine lit a cigarette, and sighed. Was she a bad mother? Yes. Was she a bad wife? No.

_Why wasn't she good enough?_

It was because motherhood had ruined her, she knew. She used to be fun. She used to be pretty. She used to be free to do what she wanted. Stephen used to be hers, not everyone who had a nice rack.

Jonathon took that from her.

She opened his door, and poked her head through.

He was curled up with that little redhead, the one who'd had her drive her to the hospital.

Normally, Celine would've flipped at the thought of having her dirty butt in her house, in her son's bed.

But she didn't care.

She closed the door behind her.

_A good mother would care more about her son._

But then again, Celine was not a good mother.

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><p><em>I didn't mess up. I know I have different POVs. Don't bitch about it. All you'll get in return is the middle finger pointing at the screen.<em>

_Song Rec: "Somewhere a Clock Is Ticking" By: Snow Patrol_

_Review._


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry for the late update. My parents recently set a time-set for how long I can be on my computer a day. :P_

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><p><em>Chapter is one year later after the last.<em>

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><p><em>Jace<em>

..

..

..

"Why d'you gotta go?" Clary whined, crawling out of my closet, her hair sticking up around her head like a frizzy disco ball. "You're smart enough. You don't hafta go to school."

I yawned and rubbed at my eyes, scratching my nose. _Why was my nose always so itchy in the mornings?_

"I have to," I told her, like I did every morning, as I began pulling on my Sketchers, and strapping them on. "Mother says I'm stupid."

As I pulled on a Ghost Busters T-shirt, I remembered last month, when Mother began calling me stupid. She'd just gotten home from her night shift, and she smelled really sour.

She was screaming at me, and began throwing pillows and plates at the wall.

It was really scary.

I had to cover Clary's eyes, because I didn't want her to see Mother's angry eyes, and she hugged me after Mother had slumped into her bathroom to take a bath, and whispered that I wasn't stupid.

I still might have cried about it while I was taking a bubble bath.

"Your momma's a - " She cussed, rolling her eyes. "What's three plus four?"

I fiddled with my jacket zipper. "...Eight."

Clary beamed at me. "See? You're a freaking genius."

I smiled, and grabbed my plastic hairbrush from the floor of my room. "I guess..."

She clapped her hands and stood up. She was wearing my Toy Story pajama pants and my favorite Transformers T-shirt; Mother couldn't know that she'd been living here, so she had to wear my clothes.

Clary walked over and climbed onto my bed next to me. "Who's always right?"

"You."

She grinned. "Uh huh. Now brush my hair."

I rolled my eyes, but did what she said. I began running the brush through her hair as gently and lightly as possible, because I didn't want to hurt her.

"Why don't you come to school?" I asked her.

"I don't have a reason to," she told me. "I'm smart enough."

She was smart. She knew all the cuss words, she knew how to take money out of Mother's purse without getting caught, she knew how to steal candy for me from the gas station...even after I told her I couldn't be friends with a thief. Plus, I really liked Twizzlers.

I touched her hair; I loved Clary's hair, it was was so soft, and smelled so good.

"I'll be at the park," she told me, and gave me a quick hug like she did every morning, and stole my Pikachu slippers. "Eat your Cheerios," she scolded as she opened my bedroom door, grabbing my fuzzy dark blue robe and pulling it on.

"I'm not hungry," I complained, grabbing my backpack and following her out the door.

"You need to eat your breakfast," she said in a grown-up voice, and glided in my yellow pokemon slippers into the kitchen, grabbing me a bowl and the box of Cheerios. "It's the most important meal of the day, ya know."

"But -" I stopped at her squinted eyes. "Fine," I sighed, and took the bowl from her, and crouched on the floor to pour the cereal, since I wasn't tall enough yet to do it on the counter.

Clary sploshed milk on the floor as she poured it while standing over my bowl, but she just giggled.

"You have to clean that up," I told her.

She rolled her eyes. "Jace, I made you breakfast. I'm not doing everything for you. I'm not your maid."

I pouted, hoping it'd change her mind; it always worked for her. One pout, and I was tying her shoelaces for her.

Clary didn't budge. "I'll see you after school. Be good." She pulled the robe tighter around her, and began to shuffle down the hallway.

"Bye," I called after her through a mouthful of Cheerios.

* * *

><p>..<p>

..

..

"Wimp."

I was pushed against the walls of the school's hallway.

"Loser."

One of them punched me in my face, making my nose bleed.

"Pretty boy."

I felt them kick my legs, and more hands began raining on me, and I dropped to the floor, covering my head.

There were three of them; Alec, Jonathon Verlac - I had my teacher call me Jace because I didn't want to share a name with that jerk- and Sebastian Verlac. I couldn't fight them all.

"I don't know why all the girls like you," Jonathon said, disgusted. "You're such a..._girl._"

The other two began to laugh, and I covered my face.

"Hey, leave him alone, you lousy bunch of donkey butts!" Magnus scowled at the three, his face covered in powder and red lipstick on his mouth; he always messed around with the paint and clay powder in art class, claiming it made him 'prettier'.

Jonathon scoffed. "What're you gonna do if we don't? Kiss us?"

Magnus scowled. "No," he said. "I'll," he paused, and looked at me. "Uh..." he looked a little lost.

I covered my nose, which was throbbing painfully. And shook my head at him.

He sighed. "I'll tell on you."

"Ooh! I'm so scared." Jonathon rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You two are gay, anyway." He turned his back on Magnus and began strutting down the hallway, Sebastian running after him.

Alec paused, staring at Magnus, eyes wide.

Magnus waved at him. "What're you looking at?" He asked, suddenly sounding shy. Not like Magnus at all.

Alec blinked and turned red. Then he ran after Sebastian and Jonathon.

I stood up, and groaned. Ow. I hurt _everywhere._

"Do you want me to walk you to the nurse?" Magnus asked, not looking at me.

I shook my head. "I dode deed do," I told him, voice muffled. "I'll do 'ome."

Magnus looked at me, eyebrows raised. "You aren't allowed to just go home," he said.

I wanted to cry. I wanted Clary. I wanted to beat up those jerks. I wanted to go home. Where Clary was. "Dode dare," I retorted.

"Fine." He raised his hands. "I'll write mean things about those turd-stinkers in the bathroom stalls."

"Dank you."

I hurried out of the school without being seen, and ran home, blood running down my chin.

* * *

><p>..<p>

..

..

"What _happened?"_

Clary's mouth fell open as I sat on the swing next to her.

"Dothid'," I lied.

She scowled, and hopped off her swing, and grabbed the chains on mine, yanking me to a stop. "Lie to me again, and I'm flipping you outta this swing. What. Happened?"

I shook my head. "Doo embaradding."

She sighed. "Lemme wash your face off, you look ugly and bloody."

I glared at her, but she ignored me, and grabbed my hand, pulling me off my swing.

We walked home in silence, and she didn't say anything until we were in the bathroom, and she grabbed a washcloth. "Does this hurt?" She asked, pressing the cloth to my nose, and gently wiping away the blood.

I shook my head.

"Jace," she said, "who hit you?"

I shook my head again.

"Tell me."

I was quiet.

She stomped her foot. "Tell me!"

I crossed my arms. "No!"

"Then I'm not talking to you." She walked out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

* * *

><p>..<p>

..

..

She wouldn't talk to me that night.

She didn't say a word the next morning.

However, she did get dressed in the closet, and came out wearing a pair of my jeans and a white T-shirt and beige Crocs.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

She didn't reply.

She wouldn't let me brush her hair that morning, just brushed it herself.

She didn't scold me on eating breakfast, just grabbed herself an apple.

Instead of walking to the playground, and letting me walk to the bus stop by myself, she followed me.

"Clary?"

True to her word, she ignored me.

But she did sit next to me on the bus, after she climbed up the stairs with me.

I tried to poke her, get a reaction out of her, but she swatted away my hand.

When we walked off the bus, and entered the school, she finally spoke.

"Who was it?"

And then, because I hated having my best friend ignore me, I pointed at Alec and the Verlac brothers, where they were leaning against the wall, laughing and talking.

Clary nodded, and began walking towards them.

I followed her, curious to see what she was going to do.

Clary approached them. "Did you guys beat up Jace yesterday?" She asked them in the sweetest, most innocent voice I'd ever heard her use.

Jonathon frowned. "Who're you?"

She crossed her arms. "Did you?" She demanded, not as sweetly, ignoring his question.

"Well, yeah -"

Clary kicked him between his legs, and he gave a cry, falling to his knees. _"Ow!"_

She grabbed him by his hair, and elbowed him in the nose, and I heard loud _crack._

He was crying now, begging for her to stop.

But she seemed very...determined.

Sucker punching Sebastian in the stomach, she slapped him across his face when he doubled over in pain, and shoved him to the ground. "Worthless little crap," she sneered, kicking him as he curled into a little ball on the floor.

She kicked Alec in the shin, and knocked him to the floor, stepping on his fingers.

"You're nothing," she was chanting under her breath now, face flushed and eyes brighter than I'd ever seen them. "You're ugly. You're stupid. You're _nothing."_

She spit on Jonathon's face, and was about to stomp on his face, when I grabbed her by her thin waist and pulled her away from him.

"Stop it!" I told her, not letting go as I hurried down the hall, getting away from the three other boys before a teacher could see us. "What's wrong with you?"

Clary blinked at me, dazed.

I stopped in front of the art room, and shook her. "Why did you do that?"

She looked confused. "They hurt you, Jace." Her lower lip started trembling. "They needed to be taught a lesson. So that they don't make that mistake again."

"You didn't have to hurt them and yell at them," I told her, rubbing her arms to warm her up, because her teeth were starting to chatter like she was cold.

"I thought..." her eyes welled up with tears. "I thought that was what you're supposed to do."

I shook my head, and she covered her face, and began crying.

"Don't cry," I pleaded, and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, rubbing her face in my shoulder. "I was trying to protect you."

"Imma boy," I told her. "I don't need protecting."

Clary wiped her eyes. "And you're an idiot, so I have to be smart for you, too."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, whatever." Then I straightened. "Does that mean you'll come to school?"

"I'm already at school."

"You know what I mean," I retorted.

She shrugged. "Okay. Someone needs to make sure you don't get beaten up..."

I whooped, and grabbed her hand. "Awesome." I began to lead her to my classroom. "Just wait till me and Magnus show you how to sniff glue. It's _amazing..._"

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><p><em>Song Rec: "Little Girl" By: Trading Yesterday<em>

_Review. :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Heyyy:)_

_This chapter takes place right after the last..._

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><p><em>Jace<em>

_..._

_.._

_._

"I said _I'm sorry._"

Clary stuck her head out from where she'd locked herself in the bathroom, and scowled so fiercely at me that I flinched.

"I can't breathe, you moron," she snapped, pointing to her nose, where she had dried strands of glue hanging out. "It feels all _weird._"

I winced. "I'm really sorry." I began picking my nose. "I have it stuck in my nose too, you know."

She waved me off. "But you do stupid stuff all the time. And you're a boy," she added, as if it was supposed to make any sense. Which it didn't.

Magnus walked in, lollipop hanging out of his mouth. "Dude, Jace." He held up a package of Oreoes. "You didn't tell me your mom was awesome."

I snatched the package from him, and he shot me a betrayed look. "Those are Clary's," I told him.

Clary took the package from me. "I am never forgiving you for this, Jonathon Herondale." She slammed the door shut.

Magnus rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor, back pressed against the wall. "Girls are weird," he said shaking his head. "Why do you hang out with her?"

I stared at him. "She's my best friend," I told him, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. Anybody would be lucky to be best friends with Clary. "She's awesome."

He narrowed his eyes at me, a grin spreading across his face. "You liiiiiiike her," he cackled.

"Shut up!" I punched his shoulder. "I do not!"

"Jace and Clary, sittin' in a tree," Magnus taunted, jumping up. "K-I-S-S-I-N-" he let out a squawk as Clary came barreling out of the bathroom and tackled him to the floor, grabbing him by his gel-spiked hair.

"Take it back," she growled, her teeth bared and her nostrils flaring, causing the dried globs of glue to appear far more larger than I'd thought they were. "Now, you moronic butthead."

_She looks really cool,_ I thought as I gaped at her.

"Oww! Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Gosh." He glared up at her. "Get off of me and let go of my hair. You're denting my spikes," he sniffed.

Clary rolled her eyes, but scrambled off him.

"We do not _kiss _in _trees,_" she snapped out, her hands on her hips as she glared down at him, looking kind of like Mother after me and Clary had played soccer inside the house on a rainy day and broke one of her favorite lamps. "And don't touch my Oreoes. _Ever_."

Magnus rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, whatever. Chill out." He ran his hand over his head. "Did she mess up my hair?"

I shrugged; how was I supposed to know if his hair was messed up or not? I hardly ever _brushed _mine.

Clary took out an Oreo and began eating it, smacking her lips as she shot a smug look at Magnus.

"You're greedy," he muttered, wrinkling his nose.

I shook my head. "She's going to teach me how to fight," I defended her. "Greedy people don't do that."

Magnus snorted. "I don't need to learn how to fight," he told me. "I have magical powers."

Clary punched him in his stomach.

We both looked down at where our magical friend had fallen to the floor with a grunt.

He cussed at her, and she just smiled sweetly. "Whatcha gonna do about it, witch?" She taunted.

"I'm a warlock," he corrected her as I helped him up. "A magnificent one. You should be terrified."

I laughed at him. "Dude, you got punched by a _girl._"

Clary frowned and punched my shoulder, knocking me against the wall. "Jerkface."

"You two flirt a lot," Magnus observed.

I stared at him. Clary raised her fist threateningly.

He raised his hands in front of him. "Just saying. But you shouldn't touch her so much," he said. "Girls have cooties."

Clary snarled.

Grabbing her by her waist, I hugged her to me to keep her from attacking him again. "Clary doesn't have any cooties," I promised him.

Magnus eyed her warily. "If you say so..."

After that we went to the living room and took turns playing with Magnus's Gameboy.

When it was his turn, Clary discreetly handed me a tissue and an Oreo.

I munched happily on my cookie, the token of her forgiveness.

She smiled at me, and patted my bruised shoulder better.

Magnus continued to play his Mario Cart game, oblivious.

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><p><em>Review...<em>


	9. Chapter 9

_So in the last chapter, I was so behind in everything that I forgot to answer some lovely reviewer's question. But yeah, in the last chapter they were 6. I always have an age or time update in my A/N if there's a change._

_And yeah, I guess teachers would be concerned about parents, but basically one of the points I'm trying to make in this story is how oblivious and ignorant people can be about things that are right in front of them._

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><p><em><span>Mr. Ma'zin<span>= That's wonderful sweetie:) Do you also drive a white van?  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>This chapter takes place two years after the last.<em>

_Ages:_

_Jace-8_

_Clary-8_

_Magnus-9_

_Alec-9_

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><p><em>Jace<em>

...

..

.

Mother had been gone for two days.

True, she was never home much anyway, save for a few hours, but still. I was worried.

She'd kissed me quickly on my cheek, murmuring she wouldn't be home for a little while and in a flurry of short skirts and suitcases, was out the door, her stinky perfume trailing behind her.

_What if she never came back?_

"Clary?" I whispered, plugging my Adventure Time nightlight into the outlet. "Where do you think my mom is?"

She poked her freckly face out from beneath my bed; she'd moved there from the closet, claiming she liked it better. I think she just liked reaching her hand out and grabbing at my feet in the middle of the night and scaring the crap out of me.

"I think she's passed out in an alley," she told him, her green eyes serious. "My mom used to do that. She'd be gone for a few days, and then we'd find her behind a Dumpster, sleeping."

I wrinkled my nose. "Mother's too clean for that." I yawned. "If she never comes back, all we'll have to eat is Oreoes and Spaghettio's."

Clary grinned her gap-toothed grin at me. "I'm fine with that."

"You'll get fat."

"_You're _already fat."

I rolled over onto my stomach to glare down at her. "Am not!"

She snorted. "Are too."

"Whatever."

"We should throw a party," she suggested, sleepily. "Like teenagers."

"A party?" I frowned down at her. "What kind?"

Clary's eyes lit up. "We could camp! And have Magnus over, he likes parties."

She continued to babble about this "party" and I found myself dozing off to the sound off her excited voice.

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><p>I invited the boy that had moved in down the street last week to my sleep over, telling him that he should bring a bunch of sugary snacks to keep him awake; Magnus had gotten an evil glint in his eyes while leaving the bathroom with a tube of my toothpaste. Weirdo.<p>

Clary was pitching up the one-person tent while Magnus laid on the grass and chewed on a stem when I showed up, Alec in tow; he'd insisted on walking behind me.

Magnus's eyes immediately landed on Alec, and he sat up. "Well, well," he drawled in a terribly Southern accent. "What'd we got here now?"

Clary snorted. "Idiot." She waved at Alec. "Do you have a high pain tolerance?" She asked.

Alec blinked at her, and I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. "Be careful around her," I whispered in his ear. "She's very dangerous."

He nodded.

Magnus stood up and walked over to us, circling Alec and squinting at him. "You're quiet," he commented. "Which means you think a lot. What are you thinking about?"

Alec blushed and looked down. "I didn't bring a sleeping bag," he muttered. "I'm not allowed to sleep outside."

Clary wrinkled her nose. "I used to sleep outside," she told him. "It's nicer than a closet or under a bed."

I frowned at her. "You probably got lots of gross stuff on you."

She nodded in agreement before ducking into the tent. "I fell asleep on a piece of gum...it got stuck in my nostril."

Magnus giggled loudly. "That's disgusting," he exclaimed, grinning. "Did you chew it?"

"Ew! No."

Alec glanced over at Magnus. "I would've chewed it."

I gave him a high-five. "Whoa."

Magnus stared at him. "I think I love you."

Alec's face turned red but looked pleased.

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><p>Clary started the fire - nobody asked her how she knew how, I was frankly a little scared by what her answer would be - and we made s'mores.<p>

We laid on our stomachs in a circle next to the little fire, Clary pressed against my side and Magnus showing Alec how to roast his marshmallow.

"So you're mom's alright with you doing this?" Alec asked, his face covered in melted chocolate and marshmallow.

I shrugged. "I guess."

Clary laid her head on my shoulder. "Alec, if you want something really bad you don't ask permission. Otherwise you'll never get it."

Magnus nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his blue lemonade. He was always putting food coloring in his drinks for some reason. "I wanted this Super Monkey Ball game," he said. "And I knew my dad would never get it for me. So," he shrugged. "I took it."

Alec gaped at him while Clary and I gave him a thumbs up.

"That-that's _stealing,_" he protested.

Clary nodded. "Magnus is a thief, Alec," she stated bluntly. "But so are you. So why don't you give Magnus back his rhinestone headband?"

Magnus leaped to his feet and jabbed an accusing finger in Alec's direction. "Of all the backstabbings I've experienced-"

I interrupted him through a mouthful of s'mores. "Overreaction gives you away. Give it back, Magnus."

He shot me a betrayed look. "And _you_," he cried out, pointing at me next. "My best friend. Are falsely accusing me of stealing from the new boy!"

Magnus really spent a lot of his time watching TV, which taught him a bunch of new words that were always confusing me and Clary.

She rolled her eyes, licking her fingers clean. "It's in his left pocket."

Alec reached into Magnus's pocket and pulled out a necklace with a small cross hanging from the string. His eyes widened and he immediately clutched it to his chest, glaring fiercely at him. _"You thief."_

Magnus wrinkled his nose, looking mutinous. "Whatever. You took my rhinestone-studded headband. Butthead."

Clary rolled over on her side and looked at me. "Are they flirting?"

I scratched my head. "I dunno how people flirt," I told her. "Magnus is acting strange though." And with Magnus, that was kinda scary.

She nodded in agreement. "He's _blushing._"

Magnus pulled his headband on and looked over at us. "What're you gonna do if you're mom doesn't come back?" He asked curiously. "Do you wanna live with me?"

Alec scowled. "Why would he wanna live with you? He lives with Clary."

Clary smiled. "I'll take care of you." She poked my arm.

I sighed. "I don't know if she wants me anymore."

Magnus shook his head. "Biiiiitch."

Alec's mouth fell open, and I threw a marshmallow at Magnus. "Don't cuss around Alexander," I scolded him lightly. "He's innocent."

Clary snickered and pressed her cheek against mine, and I felt my cheeks grow hot. "You used to be innocent." She teased.

Magnus gave her an air high-five. "We took care of _that._"

I shook my head and gave Alec a sympathetic look. "Do you wanna be our best friend?"

He blinked and nodded eagerly. "Yes." His eyes darted over Magnus and I, his eyes narrowed.

Clary smirked. "There's a little 'initiation' you have to pass first..."

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><p>I woke up the next morning with my sleeping bag pressed against Clary's, her hair in my mouth and my nose pressed against her jaw.<p>

It was nice. Uncomfortable, but she smelled nice. Like chocolate and fire and earth.

Alec was snoring in Magnus's sleeping bag, his nostrils filled with glue.

His reaction would certainly be an interesting sight when he realized that he'd passed the initiation in his sleep. The lucky duck.

I glanced down, noticing a sticky sensation on my belly.

_What the heck?_

Someone had emptied a tube of toothpaste in my bellybutton. 

"MAGNUS!"

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><p><em>Yes, yes, I have a perfectly reasonable solution to Jace's missing parent situation. <em>

_Review.:)_


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